Hawk's Way (6 page)

Honey put her hand on Jack's shoulder, but he shrugged away from her. She ignored the snub as they headed up the porch steps and into the house. “Let's just take each day one at a time, shall we? I hope you'll give Jesse the benefit of the doubt. I don't love him, but I do like him, Jack. I'd appreciate it if you could try to get along with him.”

“I'll try,” Jack said. “But I'm not promising you anything.”

“That's all I can ask,” Honey said.

After she had sent Jack to bed, Honey stood
at the lace-curtained window in her bedroom and looked out into the dark.

Where are you, Jesse Whitelaw? What brought you here? And what do you want from me?

It was three in the morning before Honey heard the front door open and close. Jesse was back. She sat up, thinking to confront him about where he had been. Then she lay back down.

He wasn't her husband. He wasn't accountable to her. And it was none of her business what he had been doing. Or with whom.

Honey closed her eyes. When Cale died she had made up her mind never to let another man break her heart. She lay on her side and pulled the covers up over her shoulder. She was going to put that drifting man out of her mind once and for all.

Maybe Jack was right. From now on, she would keep a little more distance between herself and the hired hand.

J
esse had known he was heading into deep water the first time he touched Honey Farrell. But it had been impossible to ignore the woman. There was something about her that called to him. He had no business getting involved with anyone, not with the life he led. Yet he hadn't been able to control the desire for her that rocked him whenever she was near. His attraction to her was as strong now, three weeks after he had first laid eyes on her, as it had been that first night. Once having tasted Honey, having
touched her, it was an exercise of will to keep his distance from her.

He had been a fool to take that room off the kitchen. He could have found a way to steal General without arousing suspicion even if he were living in the barn. It was rough enough seeing Honey every morning for breakfast, without knowing that he didn't have the right to hold her the way he wanted.

As it turned out, he had ended up seeking out the room in the barn at odd times—like now—for the privacy it offered him. Jesse crossed his arms behind his head and lay back on the bunk. The room offered few amenities. The bed was hard and the walls were unadorned wooden slats. It smelled always of leather and hay. But at least here he could get away from her to think. Right now he had a lot to think about.

Something had happened this morning that he wasn't sure he wanted to remember, but he was quite sure he would never forget.

He had woken at the break of dawn, since he and Honey had agreed that he should have use of the bathroom first each morning. As he
climbed the stairs wearing no more than jeans and socks, scratching his bare chest, he distinctly heard the water running. He had wondered what Honey was doing up so early. Over the past three weeks she had kept her bedroom door closed until he had bathed and shaved and headed back downstairs to make coffee. Then she would bathe and join him to finish making breakfast before the boys awoke.

Jesse had been curious enough about the change in routine to continue to the bathroom door. He knocked, but there was no answer.

“Honey?”

When she didn't respond, he tried the door. It wasn't locked, so he cautiously opened it. He wasn't sure what he expected, but what he found was disturbing.

Water was lapping at the edge of the tub, threatening to overflow. Honey was lying back with her nape against the edge of the tub. Her face was angled away from him. Her hair was wet and slicked back to reveal the plane of her jaw. In the steam-fogged room she provided an almost ethereal vision. He stood transfixed, staring at her.

“Honey?”

Concerned when there was still no response he stepped forward and knelt beside the tub. He gasped at his first glorious sight of her naked body. Before desire could take hold, he caught sight of her face, frozen in a mask of agony. Certain that something was seriously wrong, he rose to shut off the water and in the same deft move reached for a towel to wrap around her.

When he lifted her from the water, her eyes remained closed. Her face was frozen in a tragic pose like some marble statue. He picked her up in his arms and, rather than stay in the steamy room, headed for the open door down the hall that led to her bedroom. She offered no resistance, which made him even more concerned. Once inside, he shoved the door closed with his shoulder and carried her over to the canopied bed.

He wondered if her husband had slept with her in this frilly room, but decided she must have redone it since his death. It was a feminine place now, with the lace canopy overhead and lace curtains at the windows. It smelled of some
flower, which he finally identified as the same honeysuckle scent he had breathed so often in the bathroom.

He tried to lay her on the bed but she grasped him around the neck, refusing to let go. He sat down on the bed and pulled her farther into his arms.

It was then that he realized she was crying. Sobbing, actually. Only there was no sound, just the heaving of her body and the closed, distorted features on her face.

“It's all right,” he crooned. “You're all right. I'm here now.”

Her grip tightened around his neck and her nose nuzzled against his throat. She moaned once, and the silent sobbing began again.

Jesse felt his throat swell with emotion. His arms tightened around her, as though he could protect her from whatever was causing her pain. Only he hadn't a clue as to why she was so distraught.

“It's all right, Honey. Nothing can hurt you. I'm here. You're fine.”

He meant what he said. He wouldn't allow
anyone or anything to harm her. Jesse tightened his arms possessively, only to feel her struggle against his hold. Which reminded him he had no right to feel such feelings. They were virtual strangers. He knew little about her; and she knew nothing, really, about him.

He loosened his hold, caressing her bare shoulders in preparation for moving them apart. As soon as he tried to separate them, she clutched at him and buried her face even deeper against his chest. He was perfectly willing to hold her all day, if that was what she needed. He settled himself more comfortably, putting his stockinged feet on the bedspread, to wait out her tears.

She cried herself to sleep.

* * *

Jesse watched the sun rise with a sleeping woman in his arms. He had always wondered what it would be like to settle down, to have a woman of his own, to wake like this with her softness enfolded in his arms. His life hadn't allowed such a luxury. Lately he had begun to wonder whether he ought to think more seriously about finding a wife.

He had bitter experience already with one woman who hadn't been able to handle the kind of life he led. She had worried and begged and cried for him to change his ways. But he hadn't been able—or willing—to give up the life he had planned for himself. It had been a bitter separation, and he had learned that he could hurt, and be hurt.

That had been nearly ten years ago. He hadn't allowed himself to fall in love again. Or to dream about a permanent woman in his life.

Until he had met Honey.

Jesse brushed back a drying wisp of curl from Honey's brow. He had no idea what it was about this woman that made her different from every other. She was like the other half of him; with her he felt whole. He worried about what would happen when she knew the truth about him.

Maybe it wouldn't matter.

Jesse grimaced. It would matter.

At least the boys weren't around this morning. He shuddered to think what Jack would have said if he caught Jesse in Honey's bed
room—no matter how innocent the circumstances. Fortunately, since yesterday had been the last day of school, Jack had gone off to an end-of-school party and stayed the night with friends. Jonathan was spending the first six weeks of summer vacation with Honey's mother and father.

Jesse felt Honey stir in his arms and thought how well the name fit her, for she flowed around him, her softness conforming to all his hard planes. He smoothed the damp hair as best he could. “How are you feeling?”

She stiffened in his arms. “Jesse? What are you doing here?”

“You don't remember?”

She frowned. “No…yes…oh.”

He watched an endearing pink blush begin at her neck and rise to her face as she realized she was naked under the towel. It had slipped some since he had carried her into the room. Now it exposed a rounded hip and teased him with the edge of one honey-brown nipple. He found the sight enchanting.

She tried to ease herself away.

“There's no sense worrying now,” he said. “I've already seen everything there is to see. But I would like to hear what had you so upset.”

Her shoulders sagged. For a moment he thought she wasn't going to tell him. When she did, he wished she hadn't.

“Yesterday would have been my fourteenth wedding anniversary. I couldn't get Cale out of my mind all night. I guess I was hoping to soak the memories out of my system—the sad ones, anyway.”

“Did it work?”

Her face was surprisingly serene when she answered, “I think maybe it did. I feel better anyway. Thanks for being there. I hadn't realized how much I needed…someone…to hold me.”

Once Jesse was reassured that Honey was no longer in pain, it left him free to acknowledge the other feelings that arose from holding her in his arms. And to pursue them.

“I wouldn't be honest if I didn't say I'm enjoying this,” he said. “You're a beautiful
woman, Honey.” He felt his body tighten and knew she must feel the swell of arousal beneath her.

Honey tried to sit up, but Jesse kept her where she was. “No need trying to pretend you didn't hear what I said. I've kept my distance the past three weeks, but it hasn't been easy. I want you, Honey. I don't want to fight what I'm feeling anymore.”

“How can you say something like that when you know I've spent the night crying over another man?”

“Cale is dead, Honey. You're entitled to your memories of him. But I won't let him come between us.”

“There is no
us!”
Honey protested. “You're a drifter, Jesse. Here today and gone tomorrow. I can't—”

His voice was fierce because he feared she was right. “We have today,” he said. “I can't offer you a tomorrow right now. Believe me, if I could, I would.”

He could see that she wanted him, that she was tempted to take today and say to hell with
tomorrow. He wished he could make promises, but a man in his line of work couldn't do that. So he held his tongue, his jaw taut as he waited to hear her answer.

“If it were only me,” she began, “I might be willing to accept what you have to offer. But I have two sons. I have to think of them. You're a drifter, Jesse. You could never stay in one place long enough to be the father they need.”

“What if I said I could?” She lifted her blue eyes to him and he saw they were filled with hope…and despair.

“I'd like to believe you. But I can't.”

“So you're posting a No Trespass sign?” he asked.

“I didn't say that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I have to think about it,” she retorted. She looked up into Jesse's dark eyes seeking answers for her confused feelings. His gaze was intent, his lids hooded, his mouth rigid, tense with desire.

Suddenly she was aware again of her half-naked state and of the hard male body beneath
her. Jesse put a hand on her bottom and shifted her so she was lying with the heart of her pressed to the heat of him.

She gasped. Honey had forgotten the pleasure of a man's hard body pressed against her softness.

“Ah, sweetheart, that feels so good,” Jesse murmured.

She clutched at his shoulders, afraid to move lest she succumb to the pleasure or have to give it up. She closed her eyes and laid her head against his chest. He felt strong, and she felt secure in his arms, as though she could have no more worries if they faced the world together.

He was offering himself for a while. For the moment. Honey realized suddenly that she was seriously considering his offer. She didn't want to fall in love with him. That way lay disaster. When he left he would break her heart. But she couldn't deny that when she was with him she felt safe and, curiously, loved. It was a feeling she'd had with no other man since Cale's death.

She would be a fool to live for today; she would be a fool to give up today for the hope
of tomorrow. But maybe the time had come for acting a little foolish. Knowing her decision was made, Honey relaxed and nuzzled her face against Jesse's throat.

He felt her acquiescence. Her body flowed once more like honey, hot and smooth. His blood began to thrum.

Honey suddenly felt herself being rolled over onto her back. Jesse lay on top of her, his hips pressed tightly into the cradle of her thighs, so there was no mistaking his intention. He levered himself onto his palms and she felt herself quivering as he took a long, lazy look at the breasts he had exposed.

“You're so beautiful,” he rasped.

He lowered his mouth so slowly that Honey felt the curl of desire in her belly long before his mouth reached the tip of her breast. She anticipated his touch, but the reality was stunning. The warmth. The heat. The wetness of his tongue. The sharp pain as his teeth grazed the crest, and then the strong sucking as he took her breast into his mouth. It was almost more pleasure than she could bear.

Honey was frantic to touch his flesh, and her fingernails made distinct crescents in his back as his mouth captured hers and his tongue ravaged her.

Honey shuddered as his hand cupped her breast. He kneaded the tip between his callused finger and thumb, causing a feeling that was exquisite. There were too many sensations to cope with them all. The roughness of his hands, the wetness of his mouth, the heaviness of his lower body on hers. She was lost in sensation.

With Cale, they would have rushed to fulfillment. But when she reached for the metal buttons of Jesse's fly, his hand was there to stop her. It seemed he had not nearly had his fill of touching and tasting. He held her hand tight against the bulge in his jeans for a moment, then laid her palm against his cheek.